The winter 2011 issue is at the press!  In the meantime, enjoy some bonus material.  We asked all the writers in our summer issue to tell us about the ideas that lead to their poems, stories, and essays. We’ll be posting their comments all month, until the new issue is out.  Here’s what Christopher Merkner, Philip Moustakis, and Edith Pearlman had to say:

Christopher Merkner: A while back I tried to write something sweet and good and pure about my hometown and the people I know and love, and “Last Cottage” is what arrived. It’s a shame. I’m pretty sure none of this story is true. I mean, I suppose I remember Slocum Lake having an unnatural swarm of carp sucking the water’s surface in summer, gasping, looking very desperate, terrified and terrifying, seemingly very eager to get the hell out of that cesspool. I’ll never forget all those eyes looking at me, all those mouths mouthing in silence, and I’ll of course never forget the good and pure people who lived with me in that sweet part of Illinois.

Philip Moustakis: In “In-Between Places,” I am making an argument for Simon more than writing his story. In fact, I am far more comfortable making arguments than writing stories. What’s the argument? If I could explain it—if I could make the rational argument—I could just write an essay. But I can’t, so I need the story.

Edith Pearlman: I would like to promote writing as an amateur enterprise. There are very few artistic endeavors and sports that do not have an amateur component—think of painting, singing, theatricals; think of tennis and soccer and baseball. There are opera companies that are  largely amateur; there are amateur architects. Writing as a hobby can be taken up as seriously as writing as a profession. The craft can be studied, practiced, and mastered for the pleasure of only a few readers, just as the amateur pianist has only a household audience and the tennis player no audience at all. A few readers? I am happy with one—that is to say, all my writing is directed toward a single ideal reader, literate, leisured, interested in being interested. When I think I have satisfied him, I myself am satisfied.

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